


The Day Is My Enemy

by birbiebi



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Blood and Gore, Experimental Style, Gangsters, Humor, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Major Character Death is NOT about johnyuten, Ultraviolence, but not in the way you expect, excessive mentions of brains, johnyuten are triple h-ing, y/n fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:27:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27775351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birbiebi/pseuds/birbiebi
Summary: “God, it was so fucking hot,” Ten moans, almost tripping over the body on his way to Johnny, and all but jumps at him, hanging at his neck. You’re pretty sure you can hear their teeth clash as they stumble to the floor, hands already down each other’s pants.Yuta proudly informs you that he’s fucking both of them.You would’ve felt jealous if you weren’t so miserable.
Relationships: Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Nakamoto Yuta, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Nakamoto Yuta/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul | Ten/Suh Youngho | Johnny, Nakamoto Yuta/Suh Youngho | Johnny
Comments: 35
Kudos: 77





	The Day Is My Enemy

**Author's Note:**

> this work was inspired by [this beautiful art](https://twitter.com/NI______NINI/status/1332349450275065859) by twitter user @NI______NINI. i just saw it and thought huh. johnyuten mobsters. hot.
> 
> as always, i send my biggest thanks to taz [(@magicsoul)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherishiskisa/pseuds/magicsoul) for beta-reading it to perfection and tolerating my johnten-related ideas, and to my precious(est!) friend katya for remaining my #1 supporter, inspirer, and all in all the best partner in crime i could ever wish for <3
> 
>  **!! WARNINGS: PLEASE READ**  
>  i did not put the legendary Dead Dove: Do Not Eat warning in the tags simply because i don't think that this fic is exceptionally immoral or repulsive (just the regular amount of immoral and repulsive lol), but everyone has their own boundaries and triggers, so here's a small list of things that happen in this fic that you might personally consider disturbing:  
> \- johnyuten are not the good guys here. they kill people, and they're not sorry;  
> \- several murders of unnamed characters (not too graphic, but it's still blood and gore);  
> \- physical assault and threatening of the main character;  
> \- sexual activities next to the dead bodies;  
> \- very very light vouyerism, i guess;  
> \- one mention of the urge to vomit, but no actual throwing up;  
> \- and lastly, lapslock.
> 
> the title is from the prodigy's [The Day Is My Enemy](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h1AaKBbNGkk).  
> also, check out the all-prodigy [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/5ZbydpbHesIYfD6vu5ONZe) i've made for this fic. reading it to this soundtrack would fry your brain two times harder, i promise.  
> and... enjoy, i guess :>

imagine that you are the crucial link between a mob boss who has a bounty on their head, and all the other douchebags looking for them

you have quite an important job. one that might actually save your boss’ life

or not

so you better be quick. and preferably discreet

no, absolutely mandatory discreet

all you have to do is to deliver a single manila envelope from one filthy outskirt of city N to the other, even filthier one. you know the city well, so it’s quite a simple task, really

or it would have been, if the target on your boss’ head didn’t mean that a manhunt was also automatically declared on each and every one of their employees

including you, the lowest possible chicken shit

the moment your existence was found out, the difficulty of your mission skyrocketed from an animal crossing delivery quest to hotline miami assault level

you’re not even good at shooters

and you really, really suck at combat in real life. you suck at a lot of shit in general. actually, it’s easier to remember the only few things you don’t suck at, but you have a suspicion that neither skateboard flip tricks nor solving sudoku are gonna help you with this one

honestly, you’re so underqualified for this job you’re kinda surprised you’re still alive

but you’re also stupidly proud that your boss confided in you. being you is an honor, and you like to feel important, so you’re gonna do your absolute best

you also blindly believe that you’re with the good guys

please keep telling yourself that

don’t stop

you don’t even know what’s in the envelope that you keep tucked into the front of your jeans under the t-shirt and the jacket you have on. you’re sweating buckets and anxiously hope that your sweat won’t permeate the paper and ruin the contents of the envelope. it also crunches with your every move and fucking tickles, but you bear it with fortitude

the jacket is caked with the blood of a guy who smashed the side window of your car with his fist when you tried to pull out of a parking lot

good news: you escaped through the passenger door and ran away from him

bad news: you don’t have a car anymore

the bloodstains are really nasty, and it would be wise to discard the jacket to make yourself less noticeable, but it’s also freezing cold outside and you don’t know where you’re gonna stay tonight, if you’d even find shelter at all, so you keep it on

you know there’s a hideout a few miles away. you also know that there are clean clothes and instant noodles in the hideout, and you haven’t eaten since yesterday morning, so you keep on walking, craving those fucking noodles more than anything else in your life. you have no idea if that place has been compromised yet, but you really don’t know where else to hide till the morning, when you hopefully will be able to catch a random taxi and get to your destination

your biggest problem is that you trust your luck

the hideout is just a small basement room under the greasy hole-in-the-wall restaurant one of your mob buddies once took you to when he was still alive. you really really hope you won’t join him on the other side tonight. his brains looked disgusting

you probably still have some in the soles of your shoes

you spend five minutes behind the restaurant’s trash cans, waiting to get ambushed, but the alleyway remains dark and quiet. you would’ve waited for longer, but you can hear your own teeth rattle out loud, and you’re afraid they’ll give you out

you also feel very sorry for yourself and aren’t very patient

so you decide that it’s now or never and scramble down the small set of stairs to the grimy door

you jerk the handle to yourself, and it gives, and you’re the happiest person in the world for approximately 1.5 seconds until you realize that the only reason why it could be open is that if someone’s entered it before you

you turn on your heels and try to run, but you can already hear the door swing open behind you, and the next moment someone grabs your collar and drags you back so forcefully that your buddy’s brains make your shoes squeak on the ground as you helplessly struggle to break free

you ask yourself if you’d be able to succeed if you didn’t step in them earlier in the day

another hand wraps around your neck, hauling you inside, and for some reason you decide that screaming would make someone help you

of course it doesn’t, but the asshole behind you still swiftly covers your mouth to shut you up

their hand is warm and smells weird

you try to bite it, but they just hit you right on the face for it, and it hurts so bad that you lose your footing completely. the next thing you know, you’re inside, the door smashed back shut by someone else. the bar lock slams down with a rattle, and then you’re pushed face first into the floor and squished down under the weight of some massive fucking thighs

thrashing under them, you can’t help but wonder how long it will take them to crush your thorax

“finally,” says the one who closed the door, and you try to turn your head to see who it is, but the bigfoot on top of you pushes your face back down into the ground. with limited access to oxygen, you quickly lose the last strength you had to throw him off

not that you had much in the first place

you’re so fucked

another pair of hands unceremoniously gropes your ass to check your back pockets and then pats along your sides and legs. “where the fuck is it?” a different voice says behind you, and that’s how you learn that there’s at least three of them

oh how royally fucked you are

“turn ‘em around,” the same voice orders, and then the weight on top of you finally lifts up, letting you take a couple of desperate lungfuls of air before it smashes back down onto your chest. now you know that the thighs that could crush your ribs are clad in blue suit pants, and their owner has a bad case of yellow bleached hair, messily tied in a ponytail in the back of his head

you could recommend a good hair salon for him to fix it, but you doubt he’d be interested in your advice, if his grip on your neck is anything to go by

the hands of the one behind him travel up your stomach, and the traitorous paper crunches so loudly under the layers of fabric that you physically cringe at the sound, squeezing your eyes shut and saying quick mental goodbyes both to your boss and to yourself. sadly, your suffering doesn’t elicit any sympathy: instead, there’s a triumphant yelp, and then some very cold fingers roughly push the hem of your jacket and tee up to yank the envelope out of your pants

you cringe once more as it unsticks from your belly, wheezing under the growing pressure on your throat

“what is it?” the guy on top of you asks impatiently to the sounds of the paper being torn apart behind his back.

“some kind of codes,” the other answers, “fuck, it’s all gibberish to me, johnny”

“give it to me”

you feel the blood flow away from your face when the hand leaves your jugular, and your chest blissfully expands once again as the johnny in question stands up, but it’s a short relief — his buddy, the one that searched you, is swiftly taking his place. he’s smaller, and you could probably throw him off if you mustered enough courage, but the next moment the tip of his knife introduces itself to your long-suffering neck, and you’re back to being miserable

to make matters worse, the new acquaintance wears an obnoxious purple suit and an equally manic smile, staring in your eyes with the kind of glee that only promises a long and painful death

you kinda wish the johnny guy would come back and peacefully strangle you

“aren’t those bank codes?” he instead asks from somewhere behind you, and the third person at the door seems to take a few steps towards him to see, but then you hear car tires on the asphalt outside

they hear it too

everyone freezes

“fuck,” the guy on top of you whispers, and you feel the blade make a little puncture on your throat when he huddles closer and covers your mouth with his other hand, shutting you up mid-whine. his outgrown nails dig into your skin almost as painfully as his knife as he promises that if you stay nice and quiet, yuta won’t cut you open and make a necklace out of your guts

the third guy, this one in a green suit, steps closer to look in your eyes and tell you that ten is right

you have no idea why the purple guy’s name is a number, but this is the least of your problems

yuta has the scariest eyes in the world

the evil dentist from your childhood nightmares kind of eyes

the amount of teeth in his mouth as he smiles down at you doesn’t help either, but you still manage to nod weakly

ten calls you a good bean for that and licks your ear as a reward

you tremble and nearly piss yourself at that

you don’t know it, but they’re both lying

you don’t know an awful lot of things, actually

good for you

you all spend a few moments in complete silence, listening to the car as it shuffles slowly through the alleyway. you don’t even know if those guys outside are yours or came here for your head

although they might as well be here for your assaulters’ heads, now that they’ve got your envelope

you actually have the tiniest chance to get out of here alive

you’ve never been happier to be so unimportant

except for the part where everyone ignores your need to breathe

the number guy’s hand on your mouth is cold and sticky and smells funny

similar to how the blue guy’s palm smelled

actually, the whole basement smells like that, you notice, struggling to get enough air through your clogged up nose

were your love life a bit more interesting, you’d be able to tell that it smells like sex, because they’ve spent the last 24 hours here, waiting for you and killing time the only way none of them seem to get bored with

if the basement wasn’t this dark, you’d be able to see the hickeys on their necks, marking the number of times each of them stayed on the lookout while the other two took their turn fucking on the old futon in the damp corner of the room, quick and fervent like hungry dogs

judging by the hickeys and who caught you at the door, ten and yuta currently owe johnny a round

that’s how poorly you timed your arrival

shame on you

outside, the car stops

you can hear its doors start swinging open one by one

“shit,” all three psychopaths say in unison

“tie ‘em up, quick,” ten hisses next, keeping the blade on your neck as yuta rolls you over and binds your wrists with something that feels suspiciously like a leather belt. you would’ve thought that it’s kinky if you weren’t so scared

with your hands tied behind your back, you’re rapidly losing your last chances to stay alive

why did you believe you had them in the first place?

you try your best not to start crying

someone’s boots pound on the stairs leading to the door, and then the door itself starts to rattle as they try to open it. it’s still blocked by the bar lock, but you’re not sure that this flimsy piece of wood will hold up for long 

sadly, this time you’re right

“human shield?” ten suggests, getting off you and drawing a gun from the back of his pants before taking his position at the back of the room, sideways from the door so whoever enters it doesn’t see him immediately. you definitely start crying as johnny simply nods to him and picks up a giant fire axe from the floor, standing right next to the entrance and lifting it up and behind himself as if it’s a fucking golf club

“won’t work,” yuta nips, but he’s already dragging you up to your feet anyways, one hand gripping your neck in a chokehold, another pressing a knife of his own into your side as you both take a few steps back into the room

now you stand exactly in front of the door that is currently violently groaning under the heavy bangs from outside

you’re so ready to die you don’t even try to fight yuta

you also might be imagining it, but it’s almost like he’s stroking your neck compassionately with the tips of his fingers. “it’ll be alright, hon,” he promises, his hot breath tickling your ear. “it’ll be fun”

you try to believe him

you don’t believe him in the slightest

the bar lock finally shatters on itself after another dozen of heavy hits, and then everything is a whirlwind 

johnny gets the first intruder, driving the axe into his chest with minimum effort — it’s almost like he’s not even trying to add any force to the blow, just letting the gravity and momentum swing the heavy weapon in the right direction. he doesn’t need to do much more as the body of a man, whom you unexpectedly recognise as the same one from the parking lot, meets it full force on its way in — the giant blade wedges itself into his breastbone with a disgusting _crack._ the force of the hit turns johnny on his axis, but he manages to stay upright and keep the axe in his hands as the man with the broken sternum crashes onto the floor, squealing horrendously 

the next moment your eardrums pop from a gunshot, and then you’re suddenly falling onto the floor like a sack of potatoes. the deafening sound bounces off the basement walls once, twice, thrice more as you screech in horror, trying to understand where the bullet hit you, until yuta climbs on top of you and gives you a sobering slap on the face. “shut the fuck up,” he yells back in your face, “no one hit you! just stay on the ground, you dumb fuck!”

you belatedly realise that he might be right as you see more bodies on the floor, but then there’s another pair of unfamiliar legs already stepping over them, and you dare to screech again, trying to warn the others, but yuta doesn’t even look at you anymore — supporting himself with one hand planted on your face, he uses the other to throw the same knife he used to poke your side right into the man’s head. he misses, but that makes the foe duck for a split second, and that’s when johnny’s axe crashes into his back from behind. the gangster screams, trying to scramble forward, but johnny is already plucking the blade from between his shoulders to swing it down again, this time right onto the man’s skull. it cracks like a ripe watermelon, the sound almost making you throw up in your own mouth — 

and then it’s quiet again, save for the ugly choking wheezes of johnny’s first victim, still writhing on the floor mere feet away from you

you close your eyes for a moment

you really didn’t want to see any more brains tonight

“you saw that? you fucking saw that? four bullets for two targets, i only missed once!” ten shrieks in the background, laughing loud and unrestrained like a child. you can feel yuta shake on top you as he giggles at him

“what about me?” johnny cackles in response, dragging the bodies farther inside to close the barely hanging door back shut. “told you that the axe was a good idea!”

“god, it was so fucking hot,” ten moans, almost tripping over the body on his way to johnny, and all but jumps at him, hanging at his neck. you’re pretty sure you can hear their teeth clash as they stumble to the floor, hands already down each other’s pants

yuta proudly informs you that he’s fucking both of them

you would’ve felt jealous if you weren’t so miserable 

in fact, you’re crying again, bleating and whimpering like a baby into yuta’s hand

the smell of it is already familiar to you

you contemplate licking his palm once before you die

yuta leans on you with his whole body, trying to muffle your noises as he calls out to the lovers sucking each other’s faces on the floor next to you

why he isn’t concerned with the sickening sounds that the man with the broken sternum is still making, you don’t know

they turn their heads to him

yuta grumbles at them half-heartedly, like, come on? and they’re like, you come on???

“we need to get out of here soon,” yuta reminds them

“then kill ‘em already and come here,” they tell him, hands still moving on each other impatiently, and they’re so repulsive but so beautiful that you can’t really blame them

neither can yuta 

he returns his attention back to you, finally freeing your mouth to wipe the tears from your eyes. “you know, you’re kinda cute,” he says, looking down at you almost sympathetically

you’re not even scared anymore at this point

you just want it all to come to an end and for the wheezing man to shut the fuck up

you ask yuta to kill him between sobs

“of course we will, hon,” he promises you with the sweetest smile. “how do you want it?”

“quick?” you ask him shyly. after all, he said you were cute

“sure,” he purrs, lowering himself down to kiss you on the forehead

and then everything blacks out.

**Author's Note:**

> THANK YOU for participating in this cruel little adventure and coming out alive! hehe  
>   
> did i make it fun? did i make it scary? who did you imagine as the main character, if not yourself? please let me know. you'll make me immeasurably happy if you leave a comment, even if it's just a keysmash or your favorite line. no comment is too small or too big :)  
> and feel free to come yell at me on twitter: [@birbiebi](https://twitter.com/birbiebi), i'm always ready to scream back at you!  
> if you feel like sharing the master tweet of this fic on twitter, here's the [link](https://twitter.com/birbiebi/status/1333016225748832257). i often try do that myself when i finish a fic i liked, but sometimes it is hard to find the master tweet even if the writer leaves the link to their account, so i thought i'd just put it here in case anyone's interested. 
> 
> P.S. now you have an option to go back and reread the whole thing imagining the main character as hendery, xiaojun or any other soft and precious boy that was threatened by yuta's boldness at some point in his life skshdjljsd  
> 


End file.
